A Matter of Perspective
by GallyGee
Summary: An expedition to a new world gives Reed and Cutler a better understanding of one another. Friendship. Takes place near the beginning of Season Two.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: the characters and universe of Star Trek do not belong to me. I'm making no financial gain from this story.

A/N: Takes place near the beginning of Season Two. I hope to finalise and post the second chapter and epilogue soon.

Many thanks to Rusty Armour for her excellent beta skills and encouragement. I've dabbled with this afterwards and take full responsibility for any remaining errors.

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A Matter of Perspective

**by GallyGee**

**Chapter 1**

The red sun - larger and considerably more overbearing than Earth's harvest moon - filled a sweep of the sky, casting a dim glow over the barren landscape. A rough carpet of fern-type plants struggled to exist under its delinquent care, with even the most vigorous individuals being barely knee high.

Malcolm saved his current scanner data and switched the device off. He had taken more than sufficient sets of readings. If there was anything out there, it wasn't detectable. Slipping the scanner into its customary pocket with practised ease, Malcolm gazed across to his crewmates a short distance away. Ripples of amused laughter and fragmented conversation drifted across the thin air as the scientists poked around the scrub, their animation in stark contrast to the dead feel of the place. One of them - Malcolm thought it looked like Lieutenant Wetzel - called the others over to share in some new discovery. They were utterly engrossed in the survey and seemingly immune to the sense of foreboding that unsettled Malcolm. A crunching footfall alerted him, and he half-turned to see Trip Tucker approaching. Trip's attention was on the camera in his hand - a permanent fixture when visiting a new world, as far as Malcolm could determine.

"Did you take any good pictures, Commander?" Malcolm asked, as Trip reached his side.

Trip shrugged and arched an eyebrow. "Here? This place is so boring! It's the same everywhere you look!"

Malcolm nodded towards their colleagues, who had now scattered once again to investigate their own areas. "They seem to be finding it interesting."

"Huh. They're welcome to it. The sooner we get out of here the better!"

"We've only got a couple more hours to get through."

"Uh huh. Nope." Trip shook his head in morose resignation. "The Captain has consulted with T'Pol and decided that, for the sake of science, we stay another twenty-four hours."

"You're joking!" said Malcolm incredulously, glancing across at the monotonous red-lit expanse and half-expecting some weird new phenomenon to have crept up on him when he hadn't been looking. But, no - of course it was just the same unchanging panorama. "Why the change of plan?" He stared at Trip suspiciously, wondering if this was a wind up, but Trip just sighed and fiddled with his camera.

"There's a lot of bugs or something," Trip mumbled.

"Bugs?"

"Yeah. Hey, look. I got one good picture." Trip held the camera out to Malcolm so he could see its display. "I thought I'd call this one 'Man with Scanner'."

Malcolm sniffed. "That's a little unimaginative, don't you think? And it's not a very flattering picture, either. Why don't you take one of me looking heroic instead of... constipated!"

Malcolm's pained expression mirrored that of his image and Trip laughed. "Well, then, you gotta act heroic, don't you? The camera sees what it sees. At least you could say the boring title fits in with the boring planet."

"An artistic symmetry, in fact?" suggested Malcolm.

"Yeah." Trip pulled a disgusted face as he put his camera away. "I don't see why we've got to stay longer. Whatever T'Pol says, I say this is…" He cast about for the most apt word. "Boring."

Malcolm had to agree, but was conscious of their privilege. "Still - this _is_ a whole new alien world. That can never be boring. There aren't many humans that have these opportunities. Not yet."

"I know. I shouldn't be ungrateful. But I can't help thinking we're wasting time here, when out there"- Trip swept an arm high - "there are all sorts of places to explore that are a whole lot more exciting."

"I've gone off 'exciting'," muttered Malcolm, wincing at some too-recent experiences. "For now, anyway." He folded his arms protectively and kicked at the shale underfoot, sending sundry insects skittering about to seek fresh cover.

Trip grunted in sympathy. "Yeah, well, see how you feel after another day in orbit around this God-forsaken red planet. I'm going back to the ship when I've checked in with the others. You should, too. You don't need to stay. It's safe here."

Malcolm frowned at that glib assumption. "Not necessarily, Commander. Nothing's shown on scans from the ship, or those I've taken down here, but who knows? I'd better stay."

"It's safe! What evil creature is going to attack us out of nothing?"

"Don't forget the Suliban," said Malcolm darkly, distaste colouring his words.

"Worry about them if and when they show," advised Trip, "otherwise you'll go crazy, always trying to see what isn't there. Anyhow, now we've got an extended visit, you can't cover the whole time by yourself. Don't tell me you can and still remain alert!"

"True," conceded Malcolm. He brightened. "I'll put Hughes down for security detail. He thoroughly ballsed up the small arms inventory yesterday. He's had extra duties, but this would round things off nicely." Malcolm uncrossed his arms and grinned, the red gloom giving an eerily diabolical cast to his face. "A fitting reward!"

Trip shuddered theatrically. "Remind me never to transfer to the Armoury!"

Malcolm raised an eyebrow as if evaluating him. "Hmm. You wouldn't need to worry, sir. I'm sure you would be an excellent inventory-taker. I couldn't promise work with torpedoes, though. Not until you proved yourself." He tried to keep a straight face, but broke when faced with Trip's amused expression.

Trip said, laughingly, "No torpedoes? Okay - then I'm definitely not transferring!"

"You know, I do believe there is an armoury officer lurking inside that Chief Engineer's exterior!"

"Oh no. I leave shooting at people to the experts! Give me my warp engine and I'm a happy man! Speaking of which, let's go make some people happy."

* * *

Trip's news was greeted with delight by the assorted exobiologists, geologists and other planetary specialists. Malcolm watched as they debated vigorously over exactly who would return to the ship for a break, so as to make sure they could take full advantage of their unexpected gift. He shook his head slowly as Lieutenant Wetzel vainly tried to impose some order. Malcolm privately thought that the bridge protocols were too lax, and that was bad enough, but this democratic chaos was totally ridiculous. Malcolm would have put the lot of them on report for insubordination! Even Trip's presence was having little effect. Wetzel didn't seem to mind, allowing himself to be argued down with good humour. One of the participants - Cutler - detached herself from the crowd and began loading up with some of the canisters stacked to one side, carefully lifting their straps over her head so as to minimise disturbance to the contents.

"I'll give you a hand, Crewman," said Malcolm, walking over and choosing a couple of the larger containers.

"That's okay, sir. I can manage. They're not heavy."

"It's not a problem. Besides, they may not weigh much, but there are plenty of them. And all the others are still arguing the toss over there." He rolled his eyes at the group.

Cutler gave a low laugh at his obvious exasperation. "They're scientists. They like nothing better than a good debate!"

"And you?" Malcolm reorganised the straps across his shoulders to make room for a couple more canisters, pushing them around to his back.

Cutler straightened up. "We'll each have the same rest time back on the ship, so I decided I'd take my break now, go get something to eat, have a nap, and then be ready to carry on straight through to the end."

"Sounds like a good plan." They'd have to make several journeys, Malcolm decided. "Shall we?" He nodded towards the shuttlepod, and they set off, accompanied by a soft symphony of clanks from their cargo.

"Is this planet really as fascinating as T'Pol thinks?" asked Malcolm, after a few minutes of brushing through the undergrowth, although he didn't expect an unbiased reply.

Cutler's face lit up. "Yes, sir! I could spend a lifetime's work just on that small patch I've been collecting specimens from." She gave a small sigh. "It's kinda frustrating, actually. I've got some projects I can work on, but then we're off to the next planet, and I'll have to hand them over to the guys back home."

"Surely you can still collaborate remotely? Stay involved?"

"Yes, but I just don't have the time." She shot him a broad smile. "I guess that's the downside of being explorers, having to let go of your 'babies', but I wouldn't trade this for anything."

Malcolm grinned back, charmed by her brimming enthusiasm. If there was one characteristic that bound together the disparate members of the Enterprise crew, this was it. Everyone went that extra mile, adding their passion to the mix. It was something he had learnt to appreciate.

"What about you, sir?" Cutler asked, breaking into his musings. "It's something I've wondered about - do you have second thoughts about joining the mission? It must've crossed your mind."

"What?" said Malcolm, startled, quite taken aback.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Everyone always says I'm far too nosey!" Cutler sounded embarrassed.

Malcolm frowned, wondering what exactly he'd done to give the impression that he might not be one hundred percent committed to the mission. And, if that's what Cutler thought, others might think the same. He chewed at his lower lip, torn between wanting to quash the inappropriate familiarity and wanting to find out more.

Cutler glanced at him and hesitated, as if considering whether to leave it there, but then squared her shoulders in resolution. "It's just that, well, you haven't had an easy time of it. I guess we weren't expecting it to be so hostile out here, and then when the Suliban boarded us, and you got injured…" She stumbled to a halt.

Malcolm snorted softly. "You might not've expected it to be hostile, but I didn't have any illusions. But, you know, it's all part of the job - my job - and I'd have been a fool not to understand what that might mean."

"But your face… after they finished with you… I saw what they did." Even in the dim light, Malcolm saw her pale and he recalled that she had, indeed, been amongst the first to reach him after that incident.

"Face, ribs… more, ah, sensitive regions…" Malcolm flashed her a reassuring grin. "Nothing that didn't mend. Don't get me wrong - if there had been a less painful way to accomplish the task, I would've taken it. But my main worry was getting the timing right. I had to get them to accept a lie. Appear to break too soon, and they won't believe you. Leave it too late and you won't be in a fit state to say anything. But I got it right - fed them the false information and they fell for it. That's what I remember. The satisfying part. Not what it felt like at the time."

Well, that was the theory. There was still the ghost of remembrance when he twisted a certain way, from those ribs that had been caved in on the left side. And he sometimes awoke abruptly, with his stomach churning in anticipation of yet another punishing blow. Malcolm gave a quick shake of his head to dispel that train of thought, and said firmly, "As I said, it's all in the job description. You accept the good things and the not-so-good."

Cutler didn't seem convinced. "And you've been shot as well."

"Energy weapons, and even had a bullet in my leg," agreed Malcolm. "I'd always wondered what that would be like," he added ruefully, with a sideways look at her.

"And that doesn't make you want to curl up in your quarters and lock the door? I know that's what I'd do!"

"No," he replied, quietly amused.

"I guess that's why you're an armoury officer, and I'm not!"

"Horses for courses. I'd be hopeless at your job. Although, I have to confess, I'll be quite happy if we never have any more contact with the Suliban."

"Urgh. That goes for me too!" Cutler declared, with an eloquent shudder.

On that note of mutual understanding, they reached the shuttlepod. Malcolm began to unload, slipping the straps off with the same care that he'd seen Cutler give to the containers. "We should put everything down outside. Then we've got more room to organise it all before we stow it. It'll be easier to sort out the larger ones, so we can put them at the back, next to the bulkhead."

Cutler followed his example, and they soon had a neat array. She pointed to a medium-sized canister. "That's one of mine."

"How many did you fill?"

"I'm not sure how many I got through in the end. I lost count."

"Could I see what you've collected? It's not just soil, is it?"

"Not just soil, no. Some samples are worm- and slug-like creatures, but they're mostly examples of different insect species." She looked bemusedly at him.

"So? May I?" he prompted, cocking his head at the canister she had identified as hers.

"Oh, sure! Of course, sir."

Cutler popped twin catches to flip open a cover along the length of the container and gestured Malcolm over. Squatting down, Malcolm peered into the world within - or, rather, worlds, as it was divided into separate compartments under a transparent wall. Some appeared uninhabited, the occupants presumably having buried themselves in their beds of loose soil. The others held a selection of wildly different creatures, many approximating what might be found on Earth, but others were very odd indeed, even on cursory inspection. One particularly caught his eye. It reminded him a bit of a stag beetle, with jagged spikes projecting forwards from a shiny plump carapace, but this creature had additional fans of weaponry bristling to its rear. The beetle marched to the window, questing along it with long, whip-like antennas before half-rearing in a vain attempt to climb. Malcolm wondered what it was able to sense. Was it aware of his scrutiny? He could see part of the underside as the insect craned to seek the sunlight. Its legs were set out in a disconcertingly non-symmetrical arrangement, in an almost random pattern, with two front legs offset to one side, adjacent to another pair offset to the other side, and, oddly enough, each leg terminated in a double pad. Leaning closer, Malcolm tried to see how the sequence continued, but the beetle had finally tired of its fruitless climb and trundled away.

"What do you think, Lieutenant?"

Straightening up, Malcolm tapped at the compartment with the pseudo-stag beetle. "If this chap is anything to go by, you're going to have fun rewriting the taxonomies!"

"Oh! I didn't know you were an entomologist," said Cutler, in some surprise.

"I'm not." Malcolm shut the cover and secured the catches. "I know someone who is, though, and I suppose some of it's rubbed off." He stood and smiled a little self-consciously at her. "My father, actually. He's a great enthusiast. He always complains about having to reorder his collection whenever there's yet another policy change, but I think he likes it, really!"

"That sounds normal," replied Cutler, with a laugh. "Is he a professional?"

"No - purely amateur. He had an observation published in a learned journal, once. It made his year!" Malcolm had heard the note read out so many times that, if pushed, he was quite sure he'd be able to quote it word for word.

"It's a field where amateurs can still make valuable contributions. On Earth alone, there are millions of species. We'll never know everything about them."

"My father would give anything to have an alien beetle to add to his collection. I know"- he held a hand up to forestall her - "you don't need to remind me of the regulations."

"Sorry, sir."

"There's no need to apologise. I'd rather have rigorous procedures than find Earth transformed into something like this planet by the time we return!" Some movement drew Malcolm's attention. He folded his arms and said sardonically, "Ah - it seems the symposium has concluded." A small gaggle of people was making its way towards them, led by Trip, who had a couple of containers slung over his shoulders. "I wonder if Commander Tucker knows what's in those canisters he's carrying," said Malcolm, with a smirk.

Cutler peered at them. "Oh - those are marked as habitat, so they'll have some of the plant life and soil, rocks and the like."

"No insects?" The devilish part of Malcolm was deeply disappointed.

"Nope. I've noticed Commander Tucker gets kinda nervous around them." Cutler looked to Malcolm for confirmation.

"Um." Well, Cutler had already detected Trip's weakness, so there was no breach of confidence in providing some advice. "Commander Tucker is piloting the shuttlepod back to the ship. If you want a smooth ride, it might be prudent not to mention our little friends to him. If he asks, just say they're habitat samples. You don't need to say they're not _all_ habitat samples."

"Right," said Cutler, as they exchanged conspiratorial grins. "Thanks for the tip, sir!"

With the additional willing hands, all the containers were soon securely strapped down in the shuttlepod and the first set of scientists were on their way back to Enterprise for their enforced break. Malcolm watched the flight path for any insect-induced wobbles, but, sadly, the craft arrowed unerringly towards its target, disappearing from his sight and into the red gloom.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Enterprise had finally taken leave of the red planet and it was now many light years astern, to the relief of everyone in the crew who wasn't a planetary scientist. Malcolm had had his fill of the place and now thoroughly agreed with Trip's astute assessment of the planet - boring. That uneasy feeling that something was waiting in the dim gloom, ready to pounce the moment you blinked, had turned out to be a false concern. Malcolm was ready for - no, he needed - something more challenging.

At the moment, he was being challenged by a particularly stubborn piece of kit - the wrong kind of challenging, more frustration than adrenaline rush. It should have been a simple upgrade to a tracking sensor array, but there had been an unexpected degradation in one of the array elements and it was causing all sorts of undesirable effects. The Armoury was quiet with nothing to distract him from his task. Only two other Armoury crew were on duty and they'd found jobs well out of his sight. Probably on another deck if they had any sense, thought Malcolm. He tapped at the display to tweak the design layout. The results were promising: he was on the right track. But, then, that's what he had thought on the previous attempt - the several previous attempts - and each had turned out to be a waste of time. He squinted at the glowing symbols, worrying away at the problem. The solution was almost within reach; he was convinced of it. Perhaps, if he upped the power to the lateral-

"Lieutenant?"

Malcolm jumped out of his skin. He spun about, indignant at being taken by surprise. It was Cutler, looking rather apprehensive.

"Yes?" he rapped out. "What is it?" He wanted to deal with this interruption as soon as possible and get back to important matters.

"Uh. Uh…"

"I haven't got all day, Crewman!" Malcolm was in no mood to be charitable. This vacillation was not improving matters.

She gave a weak smile that rapidly faded under Malcolm's scowl. "Uh, perhaps I should go, sir. You're obviously very busy. I didn't want to trouble you. Uh. that is…"

Malcolm squeezed his eyes shut, pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. It didn't help much. When he reopened his eyes, Cutler was drifting backwards in the direction of the exit.

"I'll go," she repeated. "I wanted to catch you in the mess hall, but must've missed you and- Yeah. I'll just…" She waved a distracted hand at the door.

The damage was done and his concentration broken, but perhaps it was time for a breather, in any case. Besides, Malcolm's curiosity was now aroused. Cutler wasn't due for weapon practice and Malcolm could think of no other reason for her to come to the Armoury. And she said she had hoped to see him in the mess hall, which was odd.

"No - what is it?" Malcolm said, with resignation. "We may as well deal with it now. I'm not likely to get time to eat in the mess hall. I'll get something sent down again."

"If you're sure…"

"Crewman. Please." Malcolm took a deep breath. "Get on with it."

"Right. Yes, sir." But, instead of explaining, Cutler fished in a pocket and pulled out a small box that she then thrust towards Malcolm in such a vigorous fashion that he took an instinctive step back.

His first brief thought was that this was some sort of explosive device that she wanted him to investigate, but he instantly dismissed that on the grounds of logic - not always a fair guide where some were concerned, but he had the impression that Cutler embodied a reasonable measure of common sense. Taking the item from her, he saw it had a lid and noted its light weight. He raised a questioning eyebrow in Cutler's direction. "What's this?"

"A surprise." Cutler had recovered her poise now his irritation had subsided. She smiled and urged him on. "Go ahead, sir. Open it."

Malcolm gave her a considering look and then ran a finger over the surface until he located a recessed button, which he pressed. The lid flipped up to reveal the interior.

"Oh," gasped Malcolm, transfixed.

It looked like the pseudo-stag beetle Malcolm had seen on the planet, except that in the harsh white light of the Armoury, its true, magnificent character was revealed. In place of the seemingly grey, if gleaming, monochrome, was a creature of the richest, deepest ruby red. Subtle traceries of gold and silver adorned its carapace, and bright flashes of turquoise patterned its legs and horns. Sadly, the beetle was clearly dead, but it was glorious, nonetheless. Malcolm studied it for a long time. Eventually, he said, "Thank you for showing me this. It's wonderful." He closed the lid and offered her the box.

She held up a hand in refusal. "No - it's for you."

"For me?"

"Yes. It's sort of a thank you gift."

"Thank you for what? And I'm not allowed to keep it in any case." But, then, she probably knew the relevant procedures better than he did. "Or am I?"

"It's been certified clear - the notice is on the bottom of the box. It's a shame it died, but that means it doesn't have to be kept in special conditions. So," Cutler concluded brightly, "it's yours to keep."

"But _why_ are you giving it to me?"

"Well, unfortunately, although we did our best, we had quite a few of them die, so we've got plenty of specimens to examine and don't need to keep them all, particularly this species. We all collected this kind, we found out!"

"And the 'thank you' part?"

Cutler blushed. "It's not just from me. It's from all the guys on my team. It's to say thank you for, well, for putting yourself on the line so often to keep us safe."

Malcolm thought he'd heard everything, but this astounded him. "But that's my job! You don't need to give me anything for doing my job!"

"We realise we don't need to - but we want to."

Malcolm grimaced. "Look, I appreciate the sentiment, but it really isn't appropriate."

"Why not?" She grinned at him. "It's not like we can be accused of seeking favouritism or anything. It's truly just a simple thank you. No one can say that's wrong. Please - take it."

Malcolm wavered. "But what if everyone starts demanding presents for doing their job?!"

"Oh, Lieutenant!" protested Cutler.

"Okay - I agree that's not very likely." Malcolm stared at the box and thought it through. He was acting with ill grace and she was right. It was a thoughtful gesture - if a little weird - that harmed nobody and contravened no regulations that he could see. He smiled and met her eyes. "Thank you. And thank the others in your team. This does mean a lot to me."

"I'll tell them. I'm glad you like it."

"Yes. It's amazing." There was something else, something that had jumped into his mind as soon as he had understood that she wanted him to have this gift. He had to be honest with her - it wouldn't be fair otherwise, on her or her colleagues. Malcolm shifted awkwardly. "I hope you won't think me ungrateful, but I'd like to send it to my father. As I mentioned to you, he's got a passion for this sort of creature. I'd like to keep it here, but it would be nice to show him what Enterprise has been getting up to. He'd appreciate this beetle as much as I do. Huh - even more, probably, if that's possible. A more educated appreciation also, I guarantee!"

Cutler grinned broadly. "I guessed you'd want to do that! He'll love it! Any enthusiast would!"

Malcolm was relieved at her positive reception of his idea. "Would there be any problem in shipping it to Earth? Do I need to get any special permissions or anything?"

"We can take care of all that. We'll tell you when we're sending our samples back and you can include it with one of our batches. All you'll need to do is to give us the address and any message you want to send with it. I'm not sure when that'll be - Lieutenant Wetzel might know - but you'll have plenty of time to admire it before then."

"Good. I'll make the most of it!"

"I'd better go - let you get back to your work." Cutler nodded and made for the door.

"Right. Thanks again," Malcolm called after her as she left. He opened the box to admire his beetle. He had to swallow hard as a sudden lump rose in his throat at what it represented. "I'll look at you later," he muttered, and set it down on a shelf next to his workbench. Reinvigorated, he returned to the sensor array problem, his spirits lifted and in a better frame of mind.

* * *

By shift changeover, Malcolm had made sufficient enough inroads that he didn't resent being interrupted when his team checked in with him. Then he completed the part he was working on and put the job aside with some satisfaction. He'd cracked it, and tomorrow would be just finishing off. He started packing up, but paused when he came to his beetle. It was remarkable: the sheer depth of colour, the way in which it seemed to soak in the light. Deciding to investigate further, Malcolm grabbed a microscope - the one they used for checking connections - and placed the beetle on the screen, gingerly holding it by its edges. With the illumination selected at full intensity, he pored over it, moving the screen slowly so as not to miss anything. As magnification increased, the structure became more defined. The traces of gold and silver were edges of a scale-like surface and showed iridescent when viewed under the microscope. Malcolm gave an impressed grunt. He was no expert, but was pretty sure that this was something special. He wondered what his dad would make of it. The image blurred. Malcolm blinked and rubbed at his eyes. He'd spent long enough on this. It was time to finish for the day. As he straightened up, the nearest comm panel activated.

_"Cutler to Lieutenant Reed."_

"Reed."

_"Sir, you need to-"_ A shriek cut across her voice, putting Malcolm onto immediate alert.

"What's happening?" he demanded urgently.

_"Sorry, sir. Oh!"_ Now Malcolm could hear someone - Wetzel? - bellowing unintelligible orders in the background, and a scream. What the hell was going on?

"Cutler? What is it?"

_"Sir, you have to keep the box closed - the one with the beetle. It's-"_

Malcolm didn't waste time asking why. He leapt back to his workbench, grabbing at the box. As he fumbled with it, he glanced at the microscope display and understood, with a sinking heart, the reason for the warning. He was too late! The plump carapace was moving, coming apart, driven to disintegration by tiny wriggling bodies in their hundreds. The beautiful object was gone and, in its place, chaotic movement.

Suppressing his disappointment, Malcolm tried to sweep the hatchlings, or whatever they were, into the box using a PADD. There were so many of the things, it was difficult to imagine how they'd ever all been confined within the beetle's casing. They must have been tightly packed. Certainly, they were now making good use of their new freedom and were scuttling in all directions. Malcolm found himself fighting a holding action. No sooner had he dumped a mass of the hatchlings in the box than they scrambled up its walls to freedom once more. Closing the lid between captures didn't work. The insects were poised, waiting to erupt as soon as the lid was opened to deposit the next lot. Malcolm sighed. A better plan was required. He needed a larger container, coupled with something more effective than the PADD. Casting about, he found an empty crate and a piece of flexible packing material, but by then the insects had spread a considerable distance from their parental origin. Malcolm gritted his teeth and got stuck in, determined not to allow the invaders to break out of their stronghold and sweep across the entire Armoury, but there were so many nooks and crannies that gave them the advantage. The comm sounded again - Cutler asking for him - but he couldn't afford to slacken his feverish pace for an instant. He was sure she'd draw the correct conclusion from his lack of response and wait for him to return the call once matters were under control once more.

Malcolm scored a notable victory by heading off a crowd of his adversaries that were determined to insert themselves in the innards of a defunct phase pistol lying on the workbench. He allowed himself a small smile as he scraped them into the crate. At last, he was making some headway! The tide was turning!

The comm sounded again - Wetzel this time - and Malcolm gave it a filthy look. "All right!" he muttered to himself. "Don't be so bloody impatient!" There was no way he could respond at this time. If it was a security matter, Wetzel would have said, and he hadn't, so he was clearly just curious about what was going on in the Armoury.

As Malcolm continued his Herculean labour, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye - a drift of debris suspended above the workbench. But then, as he looked at it, it blossomed into an iridescent creature with glistening, delicate wings. Watching open-mouthed, Malcolm conceded defeat as the transformed individual flew in a twisting, corkscrew path of new-found freedom towards the upper level of the Armoury. Its siblings were undergoing their own transformations - by ones and twos, and then by the tens. Malcolm brushed them away from his face and stared at the dance being performed before him. The swarming maelstrom would have been a marvellous phenomenon in its rightful place, on that dim red planet, but, here, on Enterprise, and more importantly, in the Armoury, they were at best a damned nuisance and at worse a threat to the ship. He had already spotted some inserting themselves into cracks between panels and other places where they could cause havoc with the circuitry and delicate systems. And what if they were harmful to the crew? Did they have stings or pose some other hazard?

With a few choice swearwords, Malcolm rushed to secure the area. If anyone entered the Armoury now, there would be a cloud of insects tumbling into the corridor outside in exchange. He entered the command code to lock-down the Armoury, checking the confirming red lights at each door to satisfy himself that all were secured. That safeguarded the most likely exit routes from the Armoury, but the insects were everywhere - he had to close off the recycling vents too. He sealed the Armoury sub-system from the rest of the ship and sighed in frustration. That was all he could do: contain the infestation. Trying to catch them now was out of the question.

Wafting a hand before him and the other across his hair, Malcolm cleared a path to the comm panel and stabbed at the button. "Reed to Wetzel."

_"Cutler here, sir. The lieutenant is kinda busy__ right now."_

"I was too late. These hatchlings appeared, they escaped from the box and then they developed wings and now they are… everywhere." He brushed away one that had thought his right nostril made an interesting place to explore.

_"That's what happened here too, sir.__ We think the change in the ambient light spectrum accelerated their breeding cycle."_

"Lock the doors and isolate your recycling system! We can't let them have the run of the entire ship."

_"We already did that, sir."_

"Good," said Malcolm, relieved that appropriate precautions had taken proper precedence over scientific speculation. "Do you know if anyone else apart from me had one of these beetles, or any of the other creatures, come to that?"

_"We think you were the only one. Lieutenant Wetzel has asked the Captain to make an announcement."_

Oh, great! The Captain. Malcolm groaned inwardly. How could he explain this mess?! The Armoury being put out of action by a single alien beetle!

"So - any ideas as to how we can get rid of them? A pesticide or something?" Malcolm's jaundiced eyes took in the shimmering spectacle as the living cloud swirled about him. It was surprising how rapidly one could become disenchanted with a wonder when it was doing its unwitting best to sabotage you. And get up your nose. Literally.

_"We're working on a solution now. It's difficult__. They are - uh - all over the lab," _Cutler ended with a splutter. _"Taste revolting too." _

"Don't eat them, Crewman!"

_"__That's easy for you to say, sir. You only had one beetle to deal with. We had a dozen or more. There are thousands of them now! And the Armoury's a lot bigger than here!"_

"Ugh. My sympathies. Let me know as soon as you come up with an answer."

_"Yes, sir."_

Malcolm closed the channel and took a deep breath, readying himself to comm the Captain, but Archer got in first.

_"Archer to Reed."_ He sounded highly aggrieved, and Malcolm didn't blame the Captain one iota.

"Reed here, sir."

_"I see you've got the Armoury on lock-down."_

Malcolm bit his lip at the implied reprimand. Aiming for 'cool and in control', he replied briskly, "Yes, sir. We've got a swarm of flying insects. I'm containing them until we find a way to deal with it. The science people are working on it."

_"So I hear. Keep me informed. Archer out."_

Malcolm swiped away at the insects flitting about his face. The Captain shouldn't have had to chase him for a situation update, but, then, Malcolm hadn't had a chance to tell him what was going on before now, anyway. He would just have to ensure that it was all clearly stated in his report.

Malcolm had taken barely four steps away from the comm panel when another voice emerged from it.

_"Tucker to Reed."_

It was turning into Piccadilly Circus! Malcolm stabbed at the button to open the channel. "Reed," he snapped.

_"I hear you've got a problem in the Armoury and need my help."_

Malcolm blinked, more than a little baffled. "I have got a problem, Commander," he answered carefully, "but what - er- assistance have you been asked to give?"

_"Travis didn't say__ - just that you needed me there. I'm in the middle of a job right now, but I can be with you in twenty minutes, unless it's urgent, of course."_

Travis! That explained it! Looking at the host of insects sweeping around, clinging to plasma conduits and insinuating their way behind console panels, not to mention what havoc they might be playing with torpedo targeting, Malcolm didn't see the funny side. "Ensign Mayweather was mistaken, sir. I have the situation under control. It's not an Engineering matter."

_"Are you sure__ I can't help, Malcolm? Travis was pretty insistent."_

Before Malcolm could reply, the Captain's ship-wide announcement rang out, interrupting their channel.

_"Attention all hands. If anyone brought aboard any form of insect or other lifeform from the__ planet we last visited, report to me immediately. Do not under any circumstances expose any such creature to our lighting. Keep it within a darkened container. When exposed to light, they multiply… considerably… and take flying form. The Science Department and Armoury are sealed and out of bounds for all personnel until further notice. Archer out."_

Malcolm expected a comment from Trip about the announcement once the channel was free again, but there was silence. "Commander?" he asked after a pause, wondering if they had lost the connection.

_"Yeah."_

"I really am fine at present. I don't need your assistance, but thanks for offering."

_"That thing that the Captain just said__. I guess the multiplying insects, uh…that's why the Armoury is in lock-down, huh? It's full of"- _Trip gulped -_ "bugs?"_

"Yes." There was no way to hide it. There was another pause.

_"Okay. I'm gonna kill Travis.__ Tucker out."_

Malcolm ran his fingers through his hair to dislodge a couple of passengers and decided he would have to have a discussion with Travis about what was and wasn't appropriate behaviour on a starship, if only to save him from having to conduct a murder investigation - that is, if Travis managed to survive Trip's revenge this time.

The nearest torpedo seemed to be presenting an insuperable barrier to the invaders, which Malcolm was heartened to see. Any insect trying to get between the sections of the casing eventually gave up and flew off. A quick examination of the main Armoury doors showed that they were equally secure and well-sealed, as by design they should be, of course. There were no escapees fleeing via that route. Malcolm decided to post a guard in the corridor outside, as an extra precaution, just in case, and wondered if, perhaps, Phlox could help with the problem. The doctor had an affinity with peculiar alien creatures, after all.

Glancing up at the red "door locked" light indicator, Malcolm then noticed something rather strange. And smiled.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Malcolm had conducted a brief experiment - although switching the lights off was hardly the stuff of learned journals - and now had his mark one device set up on the very workbench from which the scourge had begun. He thought that was fitting, in its way. He had his collection container to hand, with a vacuum connection rigged to give sufficient suction to retain any insect that was deposited in it. All was set.

Malcolm shut down all of the Armoury lights. The sole illumination now came from a red lamp, the largest he could find and with a spectrum going well into the infra-red. Initially, there appeared to be no response, but soon he was rewarded as the first tiny bodies arrived to dance about the fake sun. A few became a crowd, and then a whole mass of them were pressing around it.

Malcolm called Cutler to tell her the good news. "It worked! I'm going to collect them now."

_"Great__! We'll get the same set-up running in the lab!"_

It was an easy task to scoop them up, although time-consuming because there were so many. Finally, Malcolm had cleared most of the swarm. He would need to have someone go around the entire Armoury with a portable lamp, getting into all those places where insects could still be lurking unawares. They'd need to be checked in any case to ensure the circuitry was still sound.

Immensely satisfied that his Armoury was now in his own hands again, Malcolm slammed the lid shut on the collection box.

He laughed quietly to himself. He would not easily forget this expression of gratitude! Next time - not that there was likely to be a next time - he'd suggest something more traditional, like a bottle of brandy or a good ale.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Epilogue**

"Lieutenant!"

Malcolm slowed and turned at the call to see Cutler hurrying along the corridor towards him. Obligingly, he waited for her to catch up. "Crewman," he acknowledged.

She smiled. "Do you have a moment, sir? Lieutenant Wetzel asked me to check something with you."

Malcolm raised a curious eyebrow. "Yes - what is it?" There were no current projects that he was advising Wetzel's team about. Perhaps this was a possible new venture? Perhaps, Malcolm suddenly thought with a surge of satisfaction, he was finally getting the message through to people that he should be involved in mission planning sooner rather than later.

Cutler nodded down the corridor. "Maybe we could discuss it in the Armoury? I need to show you on a data reader."

"Fine," said Malcolm. "I was going there anyway." He waved a hand in the general direction and resumed his brisk pace, leaving Cutler to keep up as best she could. "What's this about?" he asked.

"Remember that red planet we visited a while back - the one with all the insects?"

Malcolm gave a wry grunt as his hopes of improved mission preparation were dashed. He said, "Ah, yes, the red planet. How could I forget? For a boring planet, it certainly livened things up around here!"

"Boring, Lieutenant? How can you say it was boring?! All those new species!" Cutler seemed genuinely shocked, and Malcolm had to chuckle at her reaction.

"Well, I suppose it's all a question of perspective," he admitted. "So, what about the red planet? You haven't got another 'dead' beetle for me, have you? Because if you have…" He said this jokingly, but was half-afraid that's exactly just what she had in mind. He didn't quite know how he'd deal with it if she had, indeed, acquired a replacement.

"Hmm. Let's see." Cutler gave him a sly look as she patted her pockets. "Nope, no beetle, but I have got this!" She pulled out a data chip with a dramatic flourish.

"Yes, well, seeing that you want access to a data reader, that isn't really much of a surprise, Crewman," commented Malcolm dryly, leading the way into the Armoury.

"Ah, but what's on it?" Cutler was not deterred from her attempts to engage his enthusiasm.

"Lieutenant Wetzel wanted me to check something, you said, so - I don't know - perhaps he's signing you all up for extra target practice. You know - in case you meet any really big insects." He grinned at her and patted a nearby data reader in invitation.

"We'd be studying them, not shooting at them, sir!" she declared in mock-horror, slotting the data chip in place.

"That might depend on how big they actually were! Another matter of perspective, in fact."

Malcolm peered over Cutler's shoulder as she brought up a file, but she was navigating her way so deftly around the contents that he couldn't follow it.

"Here's the place," she said, stepping back to allow him a clear view.

He read some of the text. It was replete with biological terminology and species names that meant nothing to him. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

She said expectantly, "Carry on, sir."

He held her gaze for a moment and then continued his perusal. Skipping over the unfamiliar terminology, he came to a part that did make sense. It was an account - albeit a heavily scientifically-enhanced account - of the incident with the pseudo-stag beetle and the resultant commotion. "Does Lieutenant Wetzel want me to check this for accuracy, or something? Because I think he's in a much better position to do that than me."

"He wants to know if you are happy with the changes to paragraph seven in that section, before the file goes for global distribution. And that you agree to its inclusion, of course."

"Paragraph seven?" Malcolm glanced at it and then said in surprise, "That's what I wrote in my report. What's been changed, and what is this file?"

"There are some stylistic edits to bring it into line with the publication guidelines. This is one of the volumes that cover the fauna, flora and geology of the red planet. It includes all of our raw data: observations, speculations, test results, images - still and moving … Well, you get the picture, I guess. And we wanted to include your contribution, particularly your work in noting the affinity of that species with a spectrum corresponding to their sun, and then the experiment and the practical applications of the investigation."

Cutler was starting to sound like a scientific treatise herself at this point, and all Malcolm could manage was a weak, "Oh." Then he said, "But all I did was to turn the lights off."

"That still counts! And you did way more than that, Lieutenant."

"Well, I suppose so… So, you say this is going to be sent around the whole ship?" Malcolm didn't think that would prove popular entertainment, no matter how much endeavour had gone into the project.

Cutler laughed. "No, sir! When I said 'global distribution', that's just what I meant. This will be going to all of Earth's leading academics in their respective fields. Beyond Earth as well, so I should say 'universal distribution'!"

"Oh. That's… nice."

Cutler positively glowed in her eagerness to put it in context for him. "They have been waiting for this for so long! It's a great honour to be selected as one of the first to receive these files from Enterprise. Then, they'll trickle them down to others - eventually. It's supposed to keep work more organised, stop duplication of effort, and that sort of thing, but they're already going crazy over this - practically getting into death matches! It makes me glad I'm out here!"

Malcolm grinned at the ludicrous idea of a couple of elderly, distinguished professors indulging in a fist fight - with some unfair gouging and hair-pulling - for the honour of being the first to read his report.

"So, Lieutenant, do you approve the inclusion of this section, or would you like to suggest any changes or additions?"

"It's fine as it stands. There's nothing else to add - it was all in my original write-up."

"Great! Oh - I nearly forgot." Cutler brought up the front page - which, to Malcolm's great pleasure, had 'Enterprise' displayed prominently, so there could be no confusion by the academics over the source of this bounty, and then the following page of contributors. "Here you are, sir. Your name is duly noted."

Malcolm was touched. "Looking at the size and scope of this file, mine was a very minor contribution, but thank you."

"There is something else. As we can't let you have an actual specimen, would you like us to send a copy of this to your father?"

"What? But he's only an amateur. He's not in the same league as all those professors."

"It wouldn't be part of the official programme - there would be no obligation whatsoever on him. It would be just for his personal enjoyment. It's not the same as being able to expand your collection with some unknown exotic, like that specimen we gave you before, but having all our recordings, data, and everything on the insect-type species is probably the next best thing to it. Any enthusiast will lose themselves in it and not come up for air for weeks."

Malcolm stared dumbly at her and offered a small nod of agreement.

"I'm so pleased we thought of this," said Cutler, pulling out the data chip. "Send across the address and covering note and we'll tag a set to go to him."

"Thanks." He gave a half-smile at the thought of his dad's reaction when he received the package.

"No - thank you, Lieutenant," replied Cutler warmly.

Malcolm's smile broadened. He couldn't imagine serving on a better ship or with better people.

* * *

**End**

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* * *

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End file.
